Finding Reality
Free Verse to Free Your Mind
The rarest thing I've ever known was my own peace of mind.
Have you felt, lived such a thing? The reality of it? The depth of it? The power of such a gift?
Most do not. They flit from thought to thought, comparing the feedback of the world to an internal reckoning of The Order of Things.
A compass gone haywire. Directionless. Buffeted. Rootless.
The Order of Things a mirage created of fear, propped up by falsehood -- pay no attention to the men behind the curtain!
I was a nomad in an old life, wanderer, scribe, shape shifter. A Faceless Man, anything to anyone. Defying The Order of Things without even knowing it, by seeking only to survive.
Love and acceptance far beyond the grasp of my brokenness, believing the lie sprung from The Order of Things telling me: you are not worthy.
Unless you do as I say. Hate who I hate. Worship The Order of Things.
On old woman with a magic mirror and a dragon companion healed me.
The dragon cried tears into the mirror's bowl, the old woman salved my psychic wounds, and the scales fell from my eyes.
I was born anew. I met Peace within my Self, a beloved friend reunited after a long while's passing. Seeing the truth behind The Order of Things, and discerning my purpose thereafter.
I've scratched these lines onto cave walls, hidden them in jugged scrolls, written them in the stars, inked them into skin, guided electricity with my fingertips. Lifetimes uncounted I have done this work
Free verse to herald free truth, the rarest of things. And now I know you wonder: how do I find your Peace, scribe?
Find a mirror. Look within. See beyond.
About the Creator
David Muñoz
I'm a recovering artist in Austin, Texas. Stoic student, mystic, writer, poet, guitarist, father, brother, son, friend. I am an eternal soul living a human experience. Part of that experience is working through my stuff by making art.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli3 days ago in Poets
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